1000 Days at the Chateau- chapter 16
by Jacqueline Boutade
Summary: Valentine's return to health and love is slow but Guy's remorse and true love slowly win her back to him. We hear the story of the last girl of 1000 Days and how sadly that ended. Valentine's own time is at an end and she must think about her options - to leave and be free or remain the marquis' mistress of her own choosing?


One Thousand Days – Chapter 16 – Elise Tells a Story

Guy hung his head in shame as his mother told him all that Mathilde had told her, except Mathilde's feelings of disgust for him. He knew that afternoon he found Valentine being violated by that idiot farmer's son that he had violated her as much as the boy and his friends. He felt worthless in the face of Valentine's shameful gaze, her humiliation his own humiliation. Now as his mother chastised him at least she did not know the full extent of his crimes; that he had arranged for all of these things to happen. True he had not intended for Valentine to be raped but he engineered the situation that allowed it to happen. If the dowager were to discover the extent of his complicity he would be unable to face her again. But as much of what he had done remained between him and Valentine and he could trust her to never speak of such matters, given the shame she no doubt felt when she recalled such things, he was secure. No-one but she and him would know the full extent of his depravity. His mother was full of contempt for him and while he resented her speaking to him in such a way, as if he were still a boy and not the marquis, she was justified. He had offended his own sense of decency and wondered, as he stood with his head bowed, what had possessed him.

'This must be the end,' Elise said. 'You must keep away from Valentine for the remainder of her contract, leave her in peace and let her go quietly. You have done too much damage, my son and I am ashamed of you.'

He closed his eyes. It was impossible to explain to his mother his feelings or his actions, because she was his mother and as a woman had little understanding of men's needs. He remembered his father's jokes at his mother's expense in the privacy of his apartment, talking with his sons. 'Two sons and her duty was done,' Guy the elder said. 'She shut her legs and locked the door. Of course I took another one of the girls, what else was I to do? You both must as well. It is our duty as de Chatillon men to exercise our ancient rights. I thank your mother for giving me legitimate sons and I thank her for enabling me to enjoy my nights again!' He laughed heartily and it was no surprise to Guy that his father died from heart failure during a night with his last girl of one thousand days.

Guy loved his mother as was his duty and perhaps more than that: he was her favourite son. She had formidable style and grace and had once been a great beauty, renown across France. His father had considered himself a lucky man in the early years of their marriage. She ran the household well and usually knew her place as the dowager marquise. He felt she might have gone too far in this matter, but he would hear her out. Then he would make his own decision about Valentine. In the end, if it coincided with his mother's wishes, all to the good, if it did not, well, he was the marquis after all. Feeling his own shame was one thing, accepting his mother's judgement and instructions was another.

'Mama I am sorry to have caused you such pain. It does my honour no good to trouble you so. I will deal with Valentine as is fit and proper but I will decide what happens to her.' He caught her eye and glared at her. 'I have acquiesced to your great desire to remarry, so that should take up your time and energies. Hopefully there will be an heir as soon as is humanly possible.'

Elise nodded. She had gone too far. It was always a delicate balance, mother and dowager. Still, she felt she had to speak her mind. It was never clear with men which bits sunk in and which were ignored. She would trust to Guy's inherent decency, his good nature and concentrate on the forth coming wedding. She wanted to begin preparations but was unable to press her son on the matter of date and venue. It was enough that he was betrothed and to a woman of nobility and bearing and sufficient beauty. True, she could not compete with Valentine but in a few short weeks she would not have to. Valentine would be gone, one way or another by the time the new Marquise arrived to take up her place by her husband. Elise consoled herself with the thought of grandchildren and prayed for a boy.

Guy left his mother feeling deeply disturbed. He was not sure how matters with Valentine had gone so terribly wrong. It had been his simple intention to enjoy her for a year and then, as Gerard had done, have a child or even two, while he looked for a new wife. It had been a simple plan, complicated he knew by his friends and their silly games, his own foolish pride. It was not too late. Valentine's contract was yet to expire and he could keep her on as his mistress for as long as he wanted. There were no clear rules about the ending of the contract. If she was willing, she could stay for as long as she wanted. If she was willing they could have a child. Clearly she was fertile. It did not have to end badly: it did not have to end at all.

He stopped by her room, where Sophie dozed by the fire, keeping a gentle watch as Valentine slowly regained her health. It seemed the crisis was past, but her future strength uncertain. He dismissed Sophie. 'I will stand guard,' he said.

Valentine woke in the night to find the marquis by the fire. He was watching her so saw her eyes open. He went to her bedside and took her frail hands in his. 'Oh, my dear, sweet Valentine. I have been such a fool. I have wronged you terribly. Can you forgive me? Can you allow me back in your heart?'

She closed her eyes, not sure if she were dreaming or not. But she could feel the warmth of his hands around hers and she felt a surge of that old emotion, the one she used to think was love, but now doubted its existence.

He waited for her answer, kneeling patiently with his hands on hers. He knew words were not enough, that he must prove himself through deed and devotion. He would win her back.

She nodded. 'Perhaps I can.'

'If you'll permit me?' He reached his hand under the covers, gently finding his way down her thigh. She did not flinch, nor did she respond. She allowed him to place his finger gently inside her, checking for his ring. 'Ah,' he smiled. 'It is still there. Our bond remains.' He brought his hand away from her, not wanting to do anything amiss, anything she would resent or hate him for. It meant a great deal to him that she kept the ring, that despite all that she had been through the ring remained in place. It must mean something.

'I know,' she said simply.

A few words, but it gave him hope. She turned her head away from him, closing her eyes, still too weak to remain awake for long.

'I shall come again,' he said, as he resumed his vigil by the fire.

Perhaps it was his visit, his quiet persistent presence, perhaps it was her own spirit returning but Valentine's health took a turn for the better. The marquis came for supper to feed her, to ensure she was taking nourishment. He would read a little to her and enjoyed watching the colour return to her face. He kissed her on the forehead or cheek, held her hand softly and slowly made his way back into her heart. He realised, as he spent every evening with her once again, that she had never left his despite his confusion and his callous acts.

She was strong enough to sit outside and the marquise sent word that Valentine must feel free to sit in her garden if she wished. The dowager found her there one sunny afternoon, still in her nightdress, wrapped in a light blanket, Rene hovering in the near distance.

'My dear,' greeted Elise, 'I am so pleased to see you out of doors. I have called by when you were sleeping and did not want to disturb you.'

Valentine took the marquise's hand as she sat next to her.

'You look so much better,' Elise said.

'Thank you, madam, I think I am mending at last.'

'I am pleased to hear it.'

They sat in companionable silence for a while until Valentine ventured a question. 'What happened to the last girl?'

'Why do you ask, my dear?'

'My time is ending soon and I am curious. Would you tell me?'

Elise settled on the bench. 'She was a lot like you, not as pretty but as sweet and as well liked by us all. Gerard, my eldest son, settled on her when he was young, so it is now some time since she was here. My memory is hazy. Gerard was intent on a son. But he was cruel to her too, I am afraid. He beat her from time to time and left her alone for much of the day. She had one servant to tend to her, Mathilde, as it happens, but no lessons or distractions. Gerard expected to be entertained by her, but she had few skills, could not sing and only read very little. Her limitations annoyed him and he hit her. He did not think to teach her things, or allow her to blossom, like Guy has with you. She would never have been presented at a ball. But she bore him a son and Gerard was pleased. It transpired however when he was but three months old that the boy was not healthy, that there was something amiss. The child was slow to thrive and we feared he would die. The doctor came most days and the child survived, but the doctor warned he might not make much of an age. Gerard raged and blamed her but it was no-one's fault. He left her for some time and took to drink and hunting, leaving her to cope alone. A nurse was sent to help with the son but the girl was already with child again. Gerard was elated and hope filled his heart. As he had already had one son and I had born the marquis two boys, he expected another boy. But it was a girl. Gerard's disappointment was great. He blamed her, accused her of being unfaithful but the only other person she had relations with had been Guy: a gift from brother to brother before Guy left for Paris. Gerard could not be calmed and we feared for her and the child's life. We found her a suitable husband who was pleased to accept a village house and a small sum to settle his debts and enable him to provide for his ready made family. He was under no illusion about the parentage of the children and expected support to educate and provide for the son, if not the daughter. The girl was grateful to be away from Gerard and settled in a village away from her family so her shame would not be theirs.'

Valentine listened attentively. 'What happened to her? Was she happy?'

Elsie shook her head. 'It seems she was all right for some time. She even had more children and the son survived longer than expected but then he died and the money from Gerard stopped. She fell into poverty and we let her. Gerard, for his sins, died within months of the boy did. He never produced another child: his wife was barren and he never took another mistress. He fell from his horse and unlike you, he died. But he was drunk and his fall broke his neck. I wondered if he allowed it to happen, if he wanted it to happen. He never found happiness easy to come by. Once he was gone his widow returned to her family and the title naturally fell to Guy.'

'What a terrible tale,' Valentine said. 'Did you never enquire about her, Gerard's girl?'

Elise examined the lace of her new gloves. 'It was not my place to do so and once the boy died and then Gerard too, we seemed to close the book on that sad part of our lives.'

Valentine nodded. 'I hope my story is not so sad.'

Elise patted her hand. 'So do I. I believe it will be easier for you as there is no child to burden you. You will have a chance to make a new life free from us all.'

'Soon,' Valentine whispered.

'Very soon,' the marquise echoed. 'Perhaps you should be thinking about that time? I am certain it will help you to recover, the thought of a new life free from here, but with help from us. You could have a wonderful life; you are still so young, after all.'

Valentine nodded. She was nearly twenty and from the dowager's point of view it must have seemed young but from where she sat she felt one hundred years old, tired and worn out, not on the verge of a wonderful new life. She wondered about the other girls of a thousand days and wondered how many of them survived their contract with the de Chatillon men and went onto live peaceful lives. Surely there were other women, other than herself and Gerard's girl, mistresses of the old marquis now aged and living comfortable lives with their families? She smiled at the world and the many lives she had lived these nearly one thousand days and wondered about Gerard's girl and if she had felt as old and weary as Valentine did this afternoon.

While Valentine enjoyed her meetings with the dowager she always left them feeling uneasy, as if the dowager was telling several stories at once. Valentine thought that Elise must know everything that transpired in the chateau and on the estate: after all she had the eyes and ears of the staff to rely on. Valentine shuddered; the marquise knew all that had happened to her. Would the dowager tell Valentine's tale to another girl of a thousand days? Would there be another after she'd gone? Would Guy marry because he needed to, find some comely noble woman, have his much desired son and then, as his father had, return to the arms of a more willing, more playful companion? Was that Guy's destiny: a convenient marriage, more in the vein of Pierre and Frederick, doing their duty but finding their pleasure elsewhere? No matter how she imagined it, Valentine did not see herself remaining in the marquis' life. Even if she stayed on as his willing mistress she imagined he would tire of her and discard her, leaving her old and stale, no good for anything or anyone.

Guy was waiting in Valentine's rooms as she returned from her interview with the marquise. He greeted her with a kiss and warm embrace. His being here seemed at odds with the marquise's message, contradicting Valentine's train of thought. Valentine shrugged, threw off her wrap and Guy helped her into bed. She was still not sure of him, not sure of her own feelings about him. In truth she had stopped thinking about him, about how she felt. She simply let him come and go as he pleased, playing brief games of cards, taking supper together; letting him watch over her as she slept. Being with him confused her: she knew he wanted her to love him again but it seemed to her that all the love she had had been extinguished; that she was now incapable of love. She felt a fondness for him and wondered from time to time if that fondness could find its way back to love but she did not dwell on such thoughts.

'I have a gift for you,' he said. 'Something very special, something to keep you company when I cannot be near. by'

She was intrigued: was he going away again? Surely it was not another man, surely those games were over?

He reached beside his fireside chair and presented her with a puppy, albeit a large puppy. It wriggled and jumped on her lap, making soft growling sounds. She giggled.

'See,' the marquis said, 'he likes you already.'

'He is lovely.'

'He will grow to be a big dog, he is a mountain dog; possibly there is some wolf in him. He will be strong and loyal, and handsome I think. Look at his paws. They tell me a puppy with big paws will be a big dog.'

She looked into the puppy's limpid brown eyes and fell in love. His fur was soft, like velvet and the colour of night and the gold of straw. His nose was pointy and wet, his ears floppy; his teeth large and sharp. His tongue was long and pink and licking at her face. It was a fine thing to hold such a bundle of energy and warmth close to you. It saddened her momentarily as it reminded of what it must be like to hold a child, a soft living thing in your arms. She felt the emptiness of her womb, her failure as a woman. Still a puppy was a fine present, a thoughtful gift, a fine token of his esteem. She smiled at the marquis and kissed his cheek.

'Rene will look after him and train him for you. He will live with Rene while he is growing and learning how to behave but you will see him every day so he knows you are his mistress. A dog is a fine companion, better than any man I know. You can take your exercise with him.'

'Thank you,' she said. 'He is the best gift I have ever received. I will cherish him.'

'As I cherish you, Valentine.' The marquis took her face in his hands and kissed her soft mouth gently with the passion of old. 'Despite all that has happened, despite how I have wronged you I ask your forgiveness. I need you to forgive me, to take me back into your heart.'

She looked at his sad eyes, his beseeching countenance, felt his warm hands on her cool skin. She shook her head, 'I...'

'I know I should not ask for it, I do not deserve your forgiveness but I need it, Valentine, as much as I need God's forgiveness of my sins. You must believe how sorry I am. How ashamed I am of what I have done to you. It was callous and thoughtless. Especially when you did no wrong, when all you did was love me. You did love me, Valentine?'

She nodded. 'Yes,' she whispered.

'Can you love me again?' he asked softly.

She could not look at him, could not answer him.

'Sweet Valentine, I want you to be my lover once more; be the woman I love, my own true lover. My love.'

She nodded helplessly; his humble sincerity was too much for her resolve. He loved her, she loved him. It was said, it was true. She had loved him from the start, she would always love him. Forgiveness can only be given from an honest heart and her heart was honest and once more full of love. His simple declaration and his thoughtful gift was too much for her soft resolves. She would never forget but she would forgive. She knew that if he asked her to stay with him once the contract had expired, she would. She would be his lover for eternity.

Guy de Chatillon took Valentine in his arms, lay beside her on the bed and held her close until she fell asleep. He stayed with her till dawn, drifting in and out of pleasant dreams, the puppy sleeping at their feet. He felt a wave of happiness sweep over him. He had her back. He had fought through her contempt and found his way back to her heart, where he would stay. No man or mother would move him from this place. This was where he belonged. Valentine was his, he was hers and they could stay together for as long as God allowed. Contract or not, peasant girl or not, Valentine was Guy's true love and he would hold her close for all time.

7

7 


End file.
